My Little Runaway
The skunk smashed his foot down on the wah-pedal, worked the slide up and down the guitar neck to open up the solo, and shot a glance at the wall-clock. 12:30 in the am. Thirty minutes until he could throw down a brew, get some peace and quiet, and flop onto his apartment's ridiculously comfortable couch for a few hours.
The smoke was getting pretty thick in front of the stage, and Serrowyn could barely see past the first two or three rows of smiling, cheering or even sourly emo-y faces. It wasn't the busiest he'd ever seen at Pastor's, but the tip jar was more or less full, and they seemed to be into it.
Hopefully he wouldn't get shafted on the paycheck. Folks were getting drunker, he was doing his job.
The next few minutes passed by uneventfully (though Serro thought somebody was picking a fight somewhere near the bathroom), and he was ready to wind down the show. Two more covers, a little more solo action, and bada-bing, bada-boom, bada bed. Just as he ended the solo (or what would have been a solo if anyone else was onstage) and the crowd ripped into applause, for whatever reason the smoke in front of the stage became a little thinner. Serro didn't really take notice at first, more than content to let things get a little less hazy if it got some of the AC past the footlights, so he just stood and let it wash over him. A waitress came near the apron with a glass of beer, and a wolf in all leather snatched it up, then gestured to Serro.
He grinned, then looked around. No sight of the manager. "Alright, a little liquid adulation," he said into the mic, then stooped to accept the beer gratiously.
As he did, he saw just behind the wolf the glow of two feminine green eyes that shot through the smoke and locked him straight in his tracks. He nearly dropped the glass, but managed to nod at the wolf and take a sip.
The girl was a shortish siamese cat with fiery red headfur, who looked tired, but happy. She was wore a sleeveless tee shirt with an STP logo streched over her moderate breasts, and had piercings in her lip, over her eyebrow, and three silver hoops in her left ear. She smiled at him.
Serro looked up at the clock. It was 12:48. Close enough.
He managed to collect himself, and played one more song (suddenly inspired, he ripped from Del's 'Runaway' into 'Interstate Love Song'), then accepted a few minutes of woo-hooing and applause. As the stereo finally started bumping overhead, Serro shrugged out of his guitar and started trolling the crowd for the siamese.
For a while, It looked like she disappeared with the cig smoke, and in Serro's tired brain, he wondered if he'd just imagined it.
Half an hour passed, and no luck. Finally, he made it to the bar, and was rewarded. There she stood, sulking by the waitress stand with her paws jammed into her pockets, which pushed the torn jeans she wore down over her hips slightly. Serro nearly choked at the sight of the black thong underwear peeking out beneath. From the side view, he saw that her tee shirt was a bit threadbare, and two shiny silver studs glinted just beneath the fabric - a pair of nipple rings.
The bartender (a surly-looking shirtless fox) slid an envelope Serro's way. "Here," he muttered. The skunk thumbed the envelope open. Not bad - thick enough for a Friday night, and sauntered over. He wasn't going to let her get away a second time.
She kept her eyes locked on the stage, the same slightly pissy look on her face. Her ears flicked in annoyance as he came within a few feet.
"Not today, buddy" she said. "I'm having a bad night. Don't even think about it."
Serro rolled his eyes. Hoo-boy.
"That guitar player's an ass," he said, leaning against the bar on both elbows.
She blinked. "What?"
He pointed at the stage. "The skunk that just got offstage. He's kind of a jerk. Really good looking and rich as hell, but kind of a jerk."
Her mouth cracked in the slightest smile.
"Yeah?" she said, still not facing him. "Why's that?"
"Well, he plays a mean guitar, gets everybody all excited, then when he sees an uber-cute green-eyed angel at the foot of the stage not quite enjoying herself, he wraps the show early so he can go bother her for her phone number."
She lowered her eyes and bit back a laugh. "Yeah, what an ass."
"Yup."
She finally turned to him, leaning on the bar with one elbow, her hip cocked out to one side. When she bumped into the bar, her breasts bounced heavily. Apparently, putting on all the lip rings hadn't afforded her much time to put on a bra. "Well, he's gonna be disappointed twice tonight then. Had my phone shut off just yesterday."
Serro nodded. "I'll tell him when I see him." He procured a paw. "I'm Serrowyn."
She glanced at the paw for a second, then took it warily. "Stephanie."
He shot her a smile, then glanced at the fox bartender. "Need ya down here, Drew." The fox headed toward them with a typical frown on his face.
"I need a Guinness," he said. "And Steph here-"
"Stephanie," she interrupted.
He rolled his eyes again. "Stephanie here will have-"
"Soda," the fox said with a growl. "She's drinking soda." He glared at the skunk. "Because she's eighteen, Serro."
The skunk pursed his lips and laughed. "So? I'm twenty-seven. Barely even legal."
Stephanie snorted as the fox put the drinks down. "Careful Serro," Drew whispered over the din. "Her boyfriend's got attitude problems." The skunk nodded and tipped Drew a fiver.
Stephanie sipped at the straw. "Thanks, for the drink."
He clinked his glass against her and slurped at the foam. "No worries." He let a few moments of silence pass as she stared at the stage.
"So," he said, bumping her with his shoulder, "what's the score with this boyfriend of yours?"
She shrugged. "He's that wolf that gave you a beer."
"Oh. Well, he passes my nice guy test."
"He's in the bathroom," she said. "And I think he's fucking the waitress."
Serro made a clicking noise with his teeth. "Oh. Sorry."
She blinked away some moisture from her eyes. "No. Fuck him. Prick owes me almost a grand."
He ran a hand through his mess of hair, adding two and two. "And that would be why I'm not getting a phone number tonight. Sprint switched you off."
She cocked her head once. "Nothing gets by you."
He laughed under his breath and decided to press his luck. He left her at the bar and walked over to the stage, starting to pack up. As he closed the hardcase, a curvy shadow fell over his guitar. He grinned and looked up at her.
"Let me guess," he said, gesturing with the microphone at the door of the bathroom . "He's in a 'bad place'," he said, doing finger-quotes in the air, "just did some jail time for something stupid, is trying to get his dj career going and needed a few bucks to pay his rent and maybe get a used motorcycle or something."
She grunted an assent and crouched down to hand him the tip jar.
He picked up his drink from the floor and took a long pull. "And you haven't had anything even approaching good sex in months."
She glanced at him and bit her lip. Serro thought he noticed her nipples hardening a little. "What?"
He put down his drink. "Look, I'm not here to stand around and chat if it's not wanted. But you need a little away time from captain asshole in there. So do you want to stand around here and wait for your loser boyfriend to finish getting a hummer in the bathroom..." He reached up and stroked the side of her hair. "...or do you want to come home with me and get rid of some tension. Because I can't think of anything I'd rather do."
Stephanie opened and then closed her mouth. She appraised Serro for a second then pursed her lips.
Serro snapped the case shut, bagged the mic and stood up. "I'm leaving, baby. Either way."
She flicked those flowing eyes again at where her boyfriend was most likely halfway disappointing the waitress, then grabbed the mic stand from Serro. "It's not like he can track me on my cell."
* * *
About an hour later, Serro opened the door to his apartment and let her in, flicking a table lamp light on. "Beer's in the kitchen."
She nodded and looked around, admiring his collection of records on the wall before heading to the kitchen. He laid down all his gear in the corner then pulled out his zippo and lit the five mis-matched candles that around the apartment. He had just flopped into his papasan chair when she finally came back with the brews. He took the bottle from her and nodded at her chest. "So...did those hurt?"
Stephanie nodded and sat on the couch. "Yeah. Like hell. But they don't chafe me anymore and they keep the boys interested, more or less."
He popped the top of the beer and drank. "You gotta admire a girl willing to go through agony for fashion." He winked at her. She giggled.
"Look at that!" he said, putting the beer down on the floor and sitting forward. "She laughs!"
She nodded and stretched her arms to the ceiling. "Sometimes." Serro watched the curves of her hips and busom undulate sweetly beneath her clothes. He sighed and leaned back.
"So," she said, the frown returning to her face. "How long have you been playing?"
"Guitar?" he answered. "About ten years. Went to college with it, got good, got jobs. What do you do for a living?"
She shrugged. "Odd jobs. I do hair sometimes. The money's good enough."
He nodded. "So...this wolf guy. How long have you been with him?"
"About a year. He moved in with me about six months ago. Been driving me crazy ever since."
"Things slow down in the bedroom after that?" Serro asked, feeling comfortable enough with her to press things a little more personally.
She snickered. "Things in that department were always slow. He has a good body, but not a lot going on in the male department."
Serro reached over and trimed the wick from a long tapered candle, ignoring the wax dribbling on the table. "Were the piercings his idea?"
"Oh no. He doesn't like them. Says they make me look 'hoe-y', whatever that means."
Something about that pissed Serro off.
In his apartment was a vision of femininity. A sexy, quick-witted rocker chick with a body from heaven. And she had shacked up with a douche-bag. Not an all that uncommon situation maybe, but one he was sick of hearing about.
If she liked assholes, he would be one for her. But for once, she was going to enjoy it.
"Show me," he said.
For a moment, she looked a little shocked, but just as quickly, Serro watched it melt away. There was a need behind her haunting eyes, a desire to stop trying so damned hard to be unapproachable.
"Sh-show you what?"
Serro lifted his eyes at her tee shirt. "Your piercings. You didn't get them to hide 'em. So show em, or there's the door."
Her eyes widened, and another ghost of a smile crossed her lips before she buried it. She stood, and hesitantly at first, then gaining in confidence, slid her shirt over her breasts and off her head. She dropped it on the floor and stood there in her loose jeans, bare-breasted in front of him, her piercings glinting in the meager light afforded by the lamp. Serro subconsciously licked his lips at the sight.
"Come here," he commanded sweetly, his tail flickering.
She sauntered over her to the papsan chair and stood with her arms behind her back, her pert breasts nipping hard, the little gold heart-shaped piercings catching his eye.
"Turn around," he murred.
She did, and he promptly took hold of her hips, pulling her roughly into his lap. She arched her back happily at the attention, and as he reached up and ran his warm paws over her bare stomach, she slid her hands over his as he explored her.
He slipped his paws over her form, enjoying the kitten's form beneath his touch, finally finding his way to cupping her breasts and pulling her even closer. She responded by pressing her hips against him, need pouring out of her in one long, unchecked purr.
She slid down his crotch, her rump teasing his thickening member as little barks of pleasure escaped his throat. She grinded against him for another couple of minutes before he pushed her gently but firmly with his hands until she flopped a little roughly onto the floor. She looked up at him with a trace glint of fire in her eyes. He laughed a little at her. She sat on her knees.
"The belt buckle," he said.
She nodded and went straight for it, pulling at the wide buckle with eager paws. She ripped the whole belt from him, and he winced a little at the burn it caused him through his jeans. She didn't need any further prodding, though, and with a few deft twists, got his jeans undone. With a grin, she was through his boxers, and had pulled out her prize, his nearly fully-erect, jet black member.
He smiled and reached around on the side table as she inspected his length, letting her enjoy it a bit. He pulled out a small Altoids tin and fished out a single rolled joint, then lit it with his zippo.
He took a long drag, holding it in expertly, then blew a little smoke at her, admiring how it curled around her face, her shoulders, her breasts. She inhaled deeply to take some in, and didn't even cough. Something about that did it for him, and he was instantly rock-hard.
"All yours now, baby." He lay a possessive paw on the top of her head between her ears, enjoying the sight of the jet black fur of his hand mingling with her red headfur. "You know what to do."
She kissed his cock deeply, clenching her eyes tightly. Her little pink tongue slowly darted out, lapping gently at him, taking in his taste. She smiled, apparently pleased, and then opened her mouth slightly, taking in the tip of his member and suckling it like an oversized nipple.
He took another puff and could already feel a buzz coursing through him. An idea sprang to mind as she slipped a little more of his head into her mouth.
"Stephanie," he said as she started to bob. "When I finish this joint, you're going to straddle me, and I'm going to take you. So...enjoy me in your mouth while you can."
The next five minutes were pure heaven. She was possessed. Her mouth slowly, achingly pleased his cock, finding his most sensitive areas and expertly slobbering over him, whipping his cock into a sloppy froth. She sucked her saliva off his member, back into her mouth and then out again, coating him. She used her hand to elongate the pleasure, the moisture of her spit coating the inside of her palm, so that she could suck him with one long, wet mouth.
He came to the end of his weed, and rather than going for the roach clip in the drawer, just butted it out and held onto the last bit of smoke in his mouth. He gestured. She stood.
He pulled her in and kissed her sweetly, holding her protectively by the waist and blowing his smoke into her mouth. She murred into the bizarre kiss, her body weakening a little as the stuff poured into her lungs. When he finally broke off, she blew it all out. She laughed a little.
He made a twirling motion with his hand, and she faced away from him. He sneered a bit and then reached around her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them to the floor. He admired the swish of her tail.
"Your panties," he said. She immediately obeyed, slipping them free.
"Hand them to me."
"Hmm?" she asked with a cock of her head.
He grinned toothily at her. "Hand them to me. Tell me they're mine."
She nodded and complied. "They're-they're yours, Serro."
With that, he pulled her onto his lap, reverse-cowgirl style, his cock resting just within her folds. He reached around and found her clit with one finger. Surprise, surprise, it was pierced.
"Now open your mouth," he said, taking her panties in both hands. He pulled them tight and put them into her mouth like a bridle. "Ride me, Stephanie."
She nodded, and lowered herself down onto his cock, piercing herself on his shaft. She grunted and moaned a little through the thong between her teeth, and reached down, gripping the sides of the chair to steady herself. He bucked into her sweetness with a steady rhythm, absently stroking her clit with one hand. With each pass of thumb and finger over her super-sensitive little love-button, she cried out lightly and pressed herself down harder.
He pulsed against her walls and bucked at her again, picking up the pace. He'd fucked tighter kittens, but he couldn't remember when. Her sweetspot gripped him like a third hand, the pussycat's slickened pussy swallowing him so eagerly he had grip onto her hips for a second to keep her from falling off.
"Good job, Stephanie. Keep it up. Good girl."
Her back arched sharply at the praise. She reached over and grasped for his tail, collecting it between her fingers, then grazed the long tip over her breasts.
He felt his member swelling with cum after about twenty minutes of the sweetest plowing he'd enjoyed in years. She was cooing and shouting and murring from around her own panties, and the sight of that alone threatened to let him release. But he decided not to let loose just yet. The girl had enough issues with not being satisfied as it was.
He worked her for all he was worth, pressing her shoulders down and penetrating her even harder. She clung to his tail, bending forward, and he followed her to the floor as she went to all fours in front of him. She lifted her ass in the air, and presented. He took her panties in each hand and gave it to her with long, slow, deep thrusts from behind. She moaned and hissed, and finally, she went rigid.
He thrust fully inside her and let her buck against him, pulsing against her walls.She mrowled out a scream that he was sure would wake the neighbors as she came around his cock, her pussy clenching tightly as he let her enjoy the moment.
He slapped her rump and finally let loose, growling out as he flooded her pussy with his inner self, his manhood spurting a healthy bevy of cum into her. She arched her back and cried out with every spurt, then reached down over the lips of her pussy and tried to hold it all in.
They stayed that way for a while, then he took the panty-gag out of her mouth. They collapsed. And she did the strangest thing.
Her mouth set into a frown, then she laughed. She laughed hard - all the way from her spine, from her belly. She laughed and writhed on the floor beneath him as a year of angst and bullshit from an undeserving boyfriend rolled out of her.
Serro's semen spilled from her as she did, pooling onto the floor. She draped her arms around him as she finally stopped laughing.
He snickered and sat up. "I thought I was the one who would be laughing. That was some powerful stuff."
She reached up and kissed him hard. "I know, baby. You smoke a joint and I'm the one who's high as a kite."
He laughed a little too. "Glad to be of service." He stood and retreated into the bedroom, then came back with a long teeshirt. "Here," he said, tossing it at her. She slipped it over her head, letting it fall almost to her knees. He could tell that something in her demeanor had changed. She took up her beer, and started talking. Telling him her story.
She talked for nearly an hour straight, and didn't bring up her boyfriend, not once. That night, she crashed on his couch, and when he awoke, she was gone.
Serro made coffee for one, and flopped onto the papasan again, a smile of satisfaction creeping onto his face as he thought of the fun they'd had that night. He had hoped she would have stuck around, at least giving him a chance to get at her one more time before her guilt sent her back to that asshole. He frowned though, knowing the truth. He'd likely never see Stephanie again.
A little depressed, he decided to get the guitar out and rent some time at the recording studio, maybe something good would come out. As he went to leave, he reached for his Altoids tin, assuming he'd need some inspiration. He'd had four joints in there that night.
They were gone. In their place was a scrap of paper. He read it.
"Gonna collect from the asshole. Getting the phone turned on tomorrow. If that guitar-playing skunk we talked about last night wants his pot back, tell him to call me." Her digits followed.
Serro laughed. Hard.